He takes the handle and closes my door, the click of the lock sounding loud in the surrounding silence. Group? My haze is suddenly gone, my thoughts clear and sharp. Son of a bitch! I forgot about my hour of “to the pain,” at the end of which, I’m sure I’ll be begging The Dread Pirate Roberts to cut off my ears. My Princess Bride reference at least makes the reminder of group a little more tolerable.

But, ugh.

Group.

The ugly word.

That’s just what I need to start off this weekend of hell. I need a drink. I plod to my kitchen and grab one of the “in case of emergency” bottles of wine in the far back of one of my cupboards. After pouring myself a glass, I take it with me (oops better grab the bottle), and the new bag of M&Ms that Chase brought me at lunch, and I make my way to my bathroom. With a quick pit stop in the bedroom for my e-reader, I enter the bathroom and, setting everything on the counter, I grab some scented bubble bath, and turn to my precious, the bathtub.

Movies and TV can be so ridiculous and I can’t help but scoff whenever they show a Chicago or New York City apartment with a large, claw foot tub. Even if they have the space, which is unlikely, have you ever seen a tub like that in a city apartment? Well, you have now. That’s right, I bought this place before they had even broken ground and required that the plumbing be set up for the ultimate decadence. These tubs are deep, so every part of you is underwater. There is no overflow drain, which means the water doesn’t slowly leak out.

I sigh in anticipation, turning the knobs to just the right spot and toss in some bubble bath. I don’t know where to find the bubble bath that creates a lasting and full coverage foam (I’m sure it’s out there because you can believe everything you see on TV), but it definitely smells amazing. When the water is hot, I strip down and with my glass of wine in hand (and the bottle within reach), I lower myself down and feel the strain in my muscles start to unfurl.

I turn on my reading device and lose myself in a suspense romance with an innocent woman on the run, and a fierce man hired to protect her. Danger, passion, and love, what else could a woman look for in a book? Besides, the hero’s alpha side reminds me a little of Chase, and it has me wondering what he’s like in the bedroom. I shake that thought off, knowing it will only lead to a cold shower.

The bath invigorates me just enough to go through my nightly routine, but when I finally crawl into bed, I heave a huge sigh and snuggle down under the covers. Not pretending they are Chase’s arms around me.

Click. Click. Click.

Each tap of my heels gives me a little more confidence, builds up another wall of armor against my imminent torture. I dressed with care, reminding myself of the strong, hardened, woman I feel safe with. My hair is up, not a strand out of place, lips stained red, and typical chic clothing. Although, my outfit might be a little sexier than usual. The gauzy, cream, button up blouse I’m wearing lays over a pale pink, lace tank top. My matching pink skirt has just a little flare, midway down my thighs, and my nude fuck-me heels give the impression that my long legs are never ending.

If I have to endure this suffering, I might as well have a little fun tormenting the teacher.

I walk into the room and stop, glancing around at the goofy cast of characters in this twisted little play. Then my eyes finally land on the leading man and I wait for his cue. He seems to sense my presence because he looks up from the little podium and immediately meets my gaze, a smile lighting up his face. His chocolate eyes quickly zero in on my lips, then slowly down the rest of my body, his jaw getting firmer with every few inches. When he finally returns to the top, his eyes are so dark, they look almost black.

He glares at me, before darting a fervent glance around the room. Then he subtly shifts, looking marginally uncomfortable, the movement so small I almost missed it.

Oh yes. This is going to be fun.

“Let me drive.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“I’ll be your best friend.”

“You already are, so no.”

“I’m your best friend?”

“Yep.”

“That was easy.”

“I’m easy.”

“You don’t say…”

“You’re just asking for trouble today, babe,” I risk a glance at her as I drive toward the hotel in her hometown where the rehearsal dinner is being held. “That outfit nearly got you bent over the refreshment table during group.”

Her cheeks blaze crimson but it shuts her up. A smug grin plays at my lips as I focus on the road. After some time, she speaks up again.

“I’m nervous. Chase, you have no idea how much I don’t want to do this. Ever since…ever since…” she trails off. “Anyway, I don’t spend much time with my family. It’s too hard.”

Earlier in group, she didn’t have any meltdowns, besides the one with her panties when I whispered what I thought of her sexy-as-fuck outfit, but I could see the strain in her eyes throughout the meeting.

As each person spoke, she retreated further and further into the cold, black place her heart likes to hide in. I didn’t push her to speak but I did require her to participate. Each time her eyes would glaze over, I’d ask her thoughts or opinions. After the first couple of scathing glares, she finally understood that I wasn’t going to be deterred and she willingly participated after that. I even caught her smiling at one of Nate’s jokes.

“There’s nothing to be nervous about. I’ll distract you,” I tease and reach across the console to squeeze her thigh. Her milky white flesh has been a beacon to me all afternoon and now that we’re in the car together, I’m an eager boy in the candy store, ready to devour his treat.

Her skin on her thigh warms beneath my touch and I flash her a grin.

“Your distractions aren’t distractions at all,” she murmurs. “They’re monumental, epic events.”

I chuckle. “And you haven’t even seen my cock yet. It’s an epic monument for sure.”

“No, I think your head is monumentally full of itself.”

Stroking her thigh, I steal a glance at her. She’s leaned against the bucket seat and gazing out the window. I don’t miss the fact that she’s slightly parted her thighs, no doubt mirroring similar thoughts that are running through my head.

“I’m just confident in myself and my abilities,” I assert. “I mean, I’ve given you two orgasms already and I’ve barely touched you. Can you imagine what it will feel like when I’m really trying?”

She inhales a sharp breath. “You’re so bad, Chase Monroe.”

Running my pinky up under her skirt along her thigh, I graze her panties before sliding it out again. “Baby, you have no idea.”

I’ve nearly convinced myself that it would be safe and a good idea to give her a third mind-boggling orgasm with my pinky when she points out the exit, deterring my wicked plans. “There. Go there.”

I hesitate briefly before withdrawing my hand and putting on my blinker. Once we’ve arrived at the quaint, yet undoubtedly expensive hotel, I park and turn to regard her. Her playfulness has fled and she gnaws on her fingernail like it’s an appetizer.

“I can’t do this,” she squeaks.

Reaching for her hand-snack, I tug it away from her teeth and bring it to my lips. I kiss the top of her hand and smile. “You can do this. We’re doing this together. I’m not going to let you fall, baby.”

Her anxious, blazing blue eyes find mine and she relaxes. The fact that she trusts me so early on in our relationship causes my chest to puff out with alpha pride.